Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mai’s chest felt tight ever since vivid, unsettling dreams hampered her sleep. Even though she spent the early hours of the morning preparing for whatever danger lay ahead, the suffocating dread only grew more intense as Logan brought Rambo to a stop before the towering cave ruins. 

Mai slid off the saddle, her boots sinking into the sand. She feared the earth aimed to swallow her. Ankle-deep in sand and cast almost entirely in shadow, she squinted against the only light peeking over the reddish rocky peaks above. 

Logan dismounted, his movements hurried as he strapped on his final piece of armor–a lightweight aluminum chestplate courtesy of Hugo. 

“These ruins ain’t as treacherous as they look,” he said, tightening the straps. He gestured at the various openings in the tall cliff and resumed adjusting his armor. “There’s a network of connected tunnels, and lotsa folks try spelunkin’ when they can.”

“Maybe after we deal with the fake Logan we can explore the tunnels.” She fixed her tactical gloves. “Let’s hope they’re just some delinquent easily scared off and not a real bandit.”

“Real bandit or not, anyone would turn tail an’ run seein’ that thing.”

Mai glanced down at the sword Logan was referring to. Resting on her hip was Qi’s latest scientific discovery and pet project: the Altair RX-67. Mai had seen her fair share of deadly relic weapons from the Old World–Pen’s signature red gloves and Matilda’s mech both prime examples–but the Altair RX-67 was like wielding a butter knife capable of leveling a small army. Perfectly balanced and almost too easy to swing. It was deceptively lethal. 

Under normal circumstances, she would have brought her trusty pickhammer since it was versatile and capable of crushing any threats with a strategic blow. 

These weren’t normal circumstances, though. Her gut said otherwise.

Mai wrapped her hand around the cool metal hilt of the sword. “I’d like to say it’s part of the intimidation tactic I have going on, but that’s unfortunately not the case.”

Logan’s eyes flicked up to meet Mai’s. He pressed his lips into a fine line. 

 “You, too, huh?” Logan traced the scar on his eyebrow as he set his focus on the dark, gaping entrance ahead. The shadows within clawed at the cave’s mouth, their escape halted by the little sunlight hovering over the cliff. “Let’s jus’ make sure to have each other’s backs an’ get this over with.”

Despite the chilling aura of the cave, the air itself was far from it. It was comfortable compared to the brisk temperatures outside. Mai unbuttoned the topmost buttons of her thick vest as she let her eyes adjust to the darkness. There was just enough light to allow them to see any obstacles, but not enough to accurately gauge how deep the corridor ahead was. It stretched on into an indistinguishable shadow.

Logan took the lead since he was familiar with the area. If he appeared lost or uncertain, Mai couldn’t tell. 

Their arms brushed as they walked, and Mai’s heart hammered harder at every touch. She told herself the only reason why she was sticking so close to him was because she didn’t want to get lost, though the fuzzy stirring in her chest seemed to indicate otherwise. 

Even in the most perilous of situations, her childish crush managed to make itself known.

Mai forced herself to keep her eyes ahead, running a hand along the wall to feel for any openings. There were none, and the farther they trekked, the less possible it was to gauge the time. Had they walked for five minutes or five hours? Who knew?

Mai strained to hear any sign of life, but even the low thrum of the wind had vanished. The only sounds she heard were their own. The soft shifting of their clothes, the thudding of their boots against the uneven rock, Logan’s breathing. Just them, alone, in this expansive void.

“This way,” Logan said, taking Mai’s hand and leading her through the dim cave. A faint glow had caught his eye. 

They treaded carefully over the craggy floor. A few sandy patches threatened to trip Mai, and Logan’s grip would tighten every time he felt her balance waver. The warmth of his hand filtered through her glove, providing some comfort for the uneasy feeling that compounded the deeper they went.

The faint glow blossomed into a swathe of orange light as they drew closer. The rocky corridor gave way to a large opening, and several oil lamps cast their light across the steep walls. They froze when indistinct voices came from around the corner.

Logan backed Mai against the wall, his body pressing into hers as he shielded her from any potential threats. Mai dug her fingernails into her palms, nearly cutting through the durable fabric. She urged herself to focus on the strangers talking rather than the solidness of Logan’s chest.

The first voice sounded thick and hoarse, like they’d come down with a head cold.

“I dunno, Don. You sure this is gonna work?”

A sudden slap resounded, and a yelp after. The second voice was much more shrill, and a kind of scratchiness colored it.

“For the last time, you nitwit, quit whinin’! We spent the last of our money on huntin’ this thing and now when it’s right ‘ere you wanna chicken out?”

“Naw, I-I ain’t chickenin’ out. I jus’ ain’t sure about that trap–it’s awful dangerous.”

“Look,” the second voice huffed. “We skin this thing and we’ll be richer than an Ataran politician. Now go make sure no tourists are hangin’ around to bungle our plan. An’ grow a spine while yer at it!” It sounded like the first man was kicked before his footsteps fell into an even pace and approached the corner Mai and Logan hid.

Logan looked down at Mai, silently signaling her to get ready. She took a steadying breath as he freed her from his protective cover. They leapt out from the shadows. 

A scruffy-looking man shrieked and tumbled backwards, his bulky stature making him appear like an upended turtle. A gangly fellow skittered towards him, alarmed to see the intruders. 

“G-Get back!” he shouted. He was the owner of the shrill, scratchy voice. His hair was pulled back into a greasy topknot and his clothes hung off of him awkwardly. He bared his yellowed teeth. “We ain’t to be trifled with, y’know!”

His companion scrambled to his feet, his frog-like eyes growing wide in recognition. He pointed and howled, “L-Logan!”

The gangly man snarled, “That’s right! We’re Logan an’ Haru, the fearsome bandits!”

“N-no, Don, that’s–”

“Shh! Would ya shut it!” Don slapped the trembling man upside the head as he whipped his head back towards the trespassers. “Give us what y’all got and maybe we’ll let ya walk!”

Their attempt at intimidation was pitiful. Mai half-considered giving them pointers on how to be better crooks. It would likely be useless given that their only shred of intelligence lay with the toadish-man. He had the appropriate reaction of nearly wetting himself seeing Logan’s menacing glare. Logan reserved it for only the most nefarious of characters, though it was wasted on the prattling fool in front of him.

Logan crossed his arms and listened with a stoney expression, strangely tolerant of the man. Meanwhile, Don’s companion hung his head shamefully, having surrendered any hope of stopping Don. He waited for Logan to step in like a prisoner awaiting execution. His tattered striped shirt made his show all the more convincing–all he needed was a ball and chain to finish it off.

After a few minutes of enduring Don’s ridiculous act and his patience now spent, Logan cut the man off with an icy tone. “You never dared talk to me like that before.”

The man froze, arms mid-air, and a confused expression replaced his fury. He blinked, the wool pulled from his eyes. Mai wished she could take a picture to memorialize the exact moment Don realized he was in deep, deep, deep shit.  

Like a servant before a king, Don threw up his hands and prostrated himself before Logan, burying his wrinkled face into the dust.

“Oh, oh, I am so sorry, Mister Logan, sir!” he wailed. He grabbed his companion by the shirt and yanked him down to the floor. “We didn’t think we’d run into you! I ain’t mean any o’ what I said! I must’ve lost my mind!”

Logan scowled. 

“Don’t change the fact y’all used my name.” 

“R-right, yer right! We’re sorry!” the rotund fellow cried.

Don stared up at Logan and attempted to explain himself, as if his petty excuses could atone for their behavior. “We were jus’ tryin’ to scare folks off from disturbin’ us while we hunted this monster. That’s why we did it.” Don flinched, though Logan didn’t move an inch. “B-but we ain’t gonna use yer name no more! Promise! You can have the monster we chased too! R-right, Mule?” he jabbed an elbow into the other man’s–Mule’s–side.

“Y-yeah!”

“Jus’ git before I decide to pummel you jackaninnies,” Logan spat.

They scrambled to their feet. Before Don got too far, Logan shot out his hand and caught him by the collar. He pulled the squirming man close, a menacing glint in his eyes. “An’ if I catch you two usin’ my name again,” he warned, voice low, “ain’t no one gonna remember yours. Got it?”

Don nodded vigorously.

“Good.”

Logan released him and Don took off after Mule, their figures disappearing back down the dark corridor.

Mai glanced up at Logan. It was almost impressive to see how instantly his hostile demeanor disappeared. His usual composed air returned, albeit tinged with annoyance. 

He ran a hand down his face.

“Guess you had the intimidation tactic covered from the start,” Mai remarked.

Logan let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, well, it don’t take much to scare those fools straight.”

Mai rocked back on her heels, curious. “How do you know each other?”

“They’re from the same village as Haru but they ain’t got his good streak. Back in our bandit days, those two would parade around sayin’ they worked for us–hurt a lot of people doin’ that. Haru an’ I tried to distance ourselves but it wasn’t easy considerin’ we had Duvos to worry about.”

Mai frowned. “It’s weird they’re still keeping up with this act, then. It was summer when the papers published the truth of what happened. Don’t they read the news?”

“Well, as you saw, they ain’t exactly the sharpest pair so no, I doubt they have.” He kicked a pebble, the small rock flying down an adjacent corridor. He squeezed his eyes shut, adding, “I’ll have to talk to Justice and some folks in nearby villages about the matter so everyone knows about this scam. Now that Donkey and Mule know I'm watchin’ ‘em, they’ll back off but who knows what damage they’ve already done with this stunt?”

His concern was warranted. While the Tumbleweed Standard and Ernest’s connection to the Atara Times made it known to the general public that Logan was, in fact, not a criminal and that he served his sentence for any crimes he did commit, his reputation wasn’t stable. Since the trial, Logan had done everything in his power to salvage his reputation. He frequently did bounties for the Civil Corps, took care of monsters disturbing surrounding settlements, and put his life on the line to ensure the safety of travelers crossing the desert. But that didn’t erase the past. 

There were tourists who cowered when they saw Logan meandering the streets of Sandrock. Villagers outside of Sandrock still kept their distance.

Mai was intimately acquainted with how fragile one’s reputation was while rebuilding it. Like glass, all it took was a single pebble to shatter any repairs.

“Are you okay?” she asked. 

Logan nodded stiffly. “I’ll be fine. Jus’ frustrated. Worked hard to make up for everythin’ only to still have to clean up messes like this. It’s a damn headache.”

Just as Mai opened her mouth to offer a word of consolation, a bitter realization stuck her in her chest.

“Dammit! Those idiots left us a monster to deal with, didn’t they?”

Logan glanced at Mai and then at the brightly-lit corridor she was staring at. “Looks like you’ll get to try out that new toy o’ yours after all.”

“Here’s hoping I don’t lose any fingers.” 

They started down the hall, falling into a comfortable silence. While having the trail of lanterns left by the imposters allowed for easier navigation, it did little to quash the uneasy feeling persistently tugging at Mai’s nerves. 

Logan paused before an abandoned leather sack laying in the middle of the corridor. He kneeled down and rummaged through it, pulling out an odd array of items. A silk neckerchief embroidered with flowers. A small notepad filled with colorful paper, a trinket most likely from Walnut Groove. A mismatched pair of decorative gloves–one for an adult’s hand, the other for a child’s, both for the left hand.

“Were these stolen?” Mai wondered, crouching beside Logan and examining the neckerchief.

“Reckon so. Too tasteful lookin’ for those two. They were probably gonna pawn these off ‘fore we got to ‘em.”

Logan shook out the rest of the sack. A pocket knife and an arrow head tumbled out. Logan picked up the metal arrow head, turning it over in his hands. It was likely made of iron, and it had a square base that led into a sharp point.

“...what monster were they trackin’?” Logan mumbled. He stood to his feet, tossing the arrowhead aside. He glanced down at Mai. “Stay alert. I got a bad feelin’ ‘bout this place. Rather not have you lose that pretty head of yours in any traps layin’ around.”

“Understood.” Mai kept her eyes on the ground as she carefully rose to her feet. He didn’t need to see her reaction to hearing him call her head ‘pretty.’

They resumed their trek down the corridor, the path becoming increasingly uneven as the hall widened. They’d soon reach another large opening. 

Logan stepped onto a rocky ledge and turned to offer his hand to Mai. What was a decent step for him would be a climb for the short builder. 

Her breath hitched when their eyes met, and she felt the blood rush to her head.

Mai slipped a shaky hand into his and hoisted herself up. Her boot slipped on a loose rock and she faltered, nearly toppling over before catching herself on the wall. Logan helped steady her as she regained her balance.

“Thanks,” she said, keeping her focus on the ground. She pulled her hand out of his and brushed past him. Mai feared that any prolonged contact with the man would make her already-trembling legs buckle. She leaned against the wall for support as she lowered herself down the steep rocks. 

Breathless and eager to redirect her racing thoughts, she floundered for a conversation topic. “New year’s coming up.”

Logan stepped down, making the descent look irritatingly easy. “Yeah. Gettin’ to celebrate back home’ll be nice.”

“And spring’s coming, too.”

Logan eyed her curiously as Mai glued herself to the wall. He didn’t call out her awkward tone of voice or her odd conversation. He chalked it up to the uneasy feeling plaguing them both.

“Yeah. I’m plannin’ to take Andy to some ruins an’ start teachin’ him more about desert survival. Kid’s been pesterin’ me about it for a while but with gettin’ the outpost set up an’ him in school it jus’ wasn’t the right time.”

Mai glanced up ahead. The end of the hall was in sight, about twenty feet away.

“I’m sure Andy’s over the moon. He loves what you do.”

Logan grinned, affection and a sense of pride washing over him. “Heard ‘im talkin’ about it with Jas the other day. Poor girl had such a mean look when he kept going on and on. Can’t say I blame her.”

Mai laughed, imagining the exact look Logan described. She’d seen it countless times during the afternoons the kids spent at her workshop. 

“I’m happy for you,” she said, her self-consciousness fading. “I know things haven’t been easy but hearing you make plans like this warms my heart. Means you’re rebuilding.”

Logan stared at her back, Mai unable to see the tenderness in his eyes. “It’s thanks to you, y’know.”

Mai waved a hand dismissively as she crossed a mound of sand. “You rebuilt your own life, not me.”

Logan stopped, gently wrapping his fingers around her wrist. Mai jumped at his touch. “You’re the one who made me believe it could be rebuilt,” he said. The last of the lanterns cast a warm glow against Logan’s back, obscuring his face in shadow. She could make out the faint reflection of light glancing off his angular features, but she bristled at being unable to read his expression. 

Mai furrowed her brows. “Be serious.”

“ I am, ” he insisted. “It’s ‘cos of you we stopped Duvos and made it out alive, it’s ‘cos of you I got the outpost again. You’re even the reason Andy’s in school right now. You made all this possible.”

“I was just doing my job,” she replied, pulling her hand away. The ghost of his touch still remained on her skin. “Everything you’re talking about happened because of everyone’s efforts, not mine alone.”

“I ain’t sayin’ you did it by yourself. I’m sayin’ you’re the reason why I–” Logan froze, his attention on something ahead. Mai’s heart hammered in her chest, her mind wrestling with a thousand possibilities of what Logan was trying to say. 

“What? What were you–”

“Shh, listen.” He held a finger to his lips, his eyes fixed on something Mai couldn’t place. He signaled for her to follow him as he pushed forward.

Mai followed him in silence, hesitating to take a single breath for fear of breaking his concentration. Her sword knocked uncomfortably against her thigh and her heavy clothing suddenly felt suffocating. Her chest constricted around her thundering heart. Any previous fluttery emotions were crushed by an ominous feeling crawling up her spine. 

Logan’s silence and tense movements alluded to a similar state.

Mai’s hand instinctively grazed the hilt of her sword.

They inched towards the end of the hall. The hazy glow of the lamps faded and they were left with the little light filtering from an invisible source in the room ahead. Mai presumed it was sunlight, hoped it was sunlight, because that meant there was a chance of escape if something went wrong.

Their feet crossed from the gravelly floor to the soft, sinking sand of the next room. Logan flanked left, craning his neck in search of the unknown threat he detected. To Mai, they appeared alone, but she knew better than to question Logan’s trained senses.

She stepped forward, remaining on the balls of her feet. The floor of the new cave was covered in sand, and Mai struggled to gauge just how deep it was. The flat faces of red rocks jutted out in various places like small islands, but for all she knew they were drowning in a vast ocean. The walls of the cave stretched at least three stories high, and sunlight peeked through cracks in the ceiling. On the other side of the room, there was a faint glow coming from behind a large boulder. Mai noted a possible exit.

She flicked her attention to a dark splotch of viscous liquid marring the wall. It looked familiar.

“Logan, look at this.”

She moved to go examine it, treading lightly.

Her boot sunk into the sand, then touched something solid.

A click.

Logan’s body moved automatically, just as it would dodging a punch or blow. He planted himself in front of her. A wall. Her shield. The force pushed him back but he did not bow. A searing pain flashed across his chest.

Mai screamed when she saw it.

The slender shaft of an arrow jutting out from his shoulder.

And then, a guttural roar from below.

Chapter Text

Logan’s fingers wrapped around the shaft. He pulled, the point wrenching loose from his armor in a swift motion. He groaned as he clutched the blood-stained arrow in his hand. Mai grabbed his right arm, his good arm, begging for him to let her see the wound.

He pushed her away with her elbow, keeping the arrow away from her, but Mai didn’t relent.

“Is it deep? Are you okay?”

Before he could open his mouth to respond, the room began to shake. The sand shifted beneath them and the arrow tumbled from Logan’s grasp. A deafening roar filled the room.

Their hands flew to their weapons. Logan freed his dagger, Mai her sword. Her blade hummed, its glassy surface sparking into a brilliant blue.

The cave shook violently. Bits of rock and dust fell from above. The mouth of an endless pit opened in the center of the room. The armored head of a massive beast exploded upwards, climbing higher until it grazed the ceiling. Debris broke loose and plummeted to the ground, surrounding the beast like the pawns of an army.

It set its malignant black eyes on the two trespassers. Logan recognized the monster.

He ground his teeth, cursing. Donkey and Mule had cornered the leviathan of the Eufala, a tunnel worm. The last time he faced one of these things it nearly took off Elsie’s head before he and Mai blew it to bits with dynamite. Tunnel worms don’t go down with anything less.

The stinging in Logan’s shoulder intensified. Logan kept his gaze ahead, biting back his pain. He needed to hold out until they dealt with this monster. He needed to convince Mai he was fine. If she lost focus, they were both screwed. 

Logan watched the tunnel worm size him up. He kept his stance firm, his gaze steady, refusing to show any sign of compromise. Cornered beasts like this one were unpredictable. And since it had been driven here against its will, it was desperate to survive. There was no escape other than death–for either of them.

But it was either kill or be killed.

The tunnel worm roared.

“Left!”

Logan and Mai leapt to the side as the jaws of the worm snapped around the empty air. They bolted across the sand, fighting against its downward pull. They scrambled onto a rock, watching as the worm wound around itself and dove back under the sand.

“Can your sword cut through its armor?” Logan asked, his lungs burning.

Mai’s eyes flicked from the bloody hole in his shoulder to his face. He saw the momentary flash of worry, how she fought the urge to ask him if he was alright. She nodded quickly before fixing her gaze back onto the stirring sand. “This thing’ll cut through rock. Get me an opening.”

“You got it.”

They bolted in opposite directions, Mai hopping from rock to rock and Logan flying across the sand. They positioned themselves on opposite sides of the room and waited for the pit to open up again. Dense keratin spikes rose from below. They cut through the floor in circles. 

Logan eyed the swirling grains, waiting for the largest spike to emerge.

There. The worm’s head.

He tore across the sand, drawing the monster’s focus in his direction. His shoulder burned, but he pressed forward, fighting the sinking sand. The monster’s head shot out from the depths, slamming into the floor at Logan’s heels. He dared a glance to his side. Mai followed the rest of the worm’s body, gripping the handle of her glimmering sword in both hands. The sounds of the churning sand, the constant rumbling of the worm, the rushing blood filled his ears. He gulped down air as he ran.

Mai launched herself onto the monster’s back, wrapping an arm around its spike as she drove her blade down. The monster roared and thrashed. Its head burst upwards, a wall of sand slamming into Logan. He crashed to the ground.

He heard Mai yelling, but the words didn’t register. He shoved himself up, sand rolling off his back in droves. His shoulder throbbed angrily, the muscles constricting painfully when he grabbed his lost dagger. Logan squeezed the dagger tighter, fighting the swell of heat in his shoulder. He tried to climb to his feet, but his knees gave out. He gasped. 

The throbbing pain twisted into an icy burning that shot through his entire body. His dagger slipped from his limp hand. His limbs numbed, the only sensation that of the persistent throbbing, persistent burning. The air disappeared from the room. He squeezed his eyes shut then opened them. The corners of his vision darkened.

He couldn’t even feel the sand beneath him. He could only watch the blurry outlines of his fingers sink deeper. He felt disconnected from his body, his mind trapped between the uncontrollable spasms of his lungs and the constant fire licking his skin. 

He was in hell.

A wave of sand nearly blinded Mai. She ducked in time to narrowly avoid the armored tail of the writhing beast. Her sword hummed in her hands, the blade a brilliant, flashing blue. She gripped the hilt, feeling the heat pulsing hotter, hotter, hotter. Sweat dripped from the ends of her hair. She gritted her teeth, launching forward.

The blade sailed upwards, an arc of light flying out towards the worm. It exploded against its plated body. A cloud of smoke burst from the tear, the worm flinging back its head in agony. The disgusting smell of burning flesh filled the cave.

Mai charged forwards, seizing the opening. The beast bit at her. Its serpentine head coiled back around, its movements obstructed by its thick, heavy armor.

She jabbed her fingers into the crags of its spikes. She hauled herself upwards, onto its body and plunged her sword into it once more. The blade slid through effortlessly. The worm shrieked, the shrill, harrowing noise grating against Mai’s ears. Mai’s head pounded.

The worm bucked. It tried to throw her off but Mai held fast, clutching the sword protruding from the beast. The sickening smell intensified as the sword twisted inside its body, the wound opening wider. The blade carved through the hard armor and soft muscle. The shrieking grew louder.

Mai threw her weight to the right, sliding down the side of the worm. Blunt spines knocked into her ribs and hips. The beast’s skin opened in a chasm behind her sword as it tore through. A torrent of blood and mucus poured out.

Mai tumbled to the ground. Chest heaving, she pumped her legs, fighting the ravenous sandy ocean beneath her. Its waves clapped and crashed down behind her. Thunder boomed.

She collapsed against a rock, aware of the immediate, chilling silence. She glanced up through her wet bangs. Her stomach lurched and she tasted bile.

Two perfect halves slumped across the sand, dissected like some freakish biology experiment. 

Mai pulled her eyes away, afraid to let the image of the oozing muscles be seared into her mind. But her eyes settled on a more horrifying sight.

Logan.

She flew across the room in an instant, the sword falling from her grasp to take him into her arms. 

“Logan! Logan, talk to me, please! ”

He looked back at her with glassy eyes, his gray-blue eyes empty of recognition. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t even cry out in pain. His jaw was locked shut, the veins in his forehead bulging. His skin was pallid and drenched in sweat. Every shallow breath looked agonizing. Blood stained the rim of the hole in his chestplate.

Mai brushed back Logan’s sand-laden hair, his hat half-buried beside him. He lay in her arms paralyzed. She didn’t know what to do. He was dying in her arms.

There was no blueprint for her to look at, no internal wiring she could take apart and put back together. Mai understood engines, circuitry, construction–not the human body.

There were no diagrams, no replacement parts. 

Just flesh and bone. 

And builders can’t fix people.

Chapter Text

The midday sun glinted off the snow-capped rooftops of Sandrock. A blustery wind flitted past the meandering townsfolk, forcing them to pull their coats tighter. Shopkeepers helped customers with cheery smiles and pleasantries. Thralls of tourists wandered up and down the brick streets, chattering excitedly about the town’s recent developments. Some people relaxed by the thriving oasis, sand lizards skittering past their boots and desert frogs croaking noisily. 

The clear blue sky bore no ill omen, but the sound of thunder echoed on the horizon.

Shopkeepers halted their exchanges, tourists stopped to listen, everyone froze hearing the deafening, rhythmic pounding from the west.

Within moments, a black goat came charging through town square. Its hooves ground to a screeching halt before it collided with the growing crowd. The wild-looking woman atop its back screamed at them to move. Monster blood stained her heavy clothes, and a pair of arms slung pathetically over her small, disheveled form. The man slumped against her wasn’t moving.

Mai whipped her head back and forth, searching for some familiar face in the crowd, but only the empty stares of strangers peered back. Mai clenched the reins, Rambo tossing his head in protest, and bleating in exhaustion. 

She bared her teeth at the strangers. They flinched seeing her fierce expression, the brim of her hat casting frightening shadows across her haggard face. She was the angel of death. 

“Someone get me the damn doctor!” she shouted.

The people chattered amongst each other, Doctor? Where’s the doctor?

Useless, these people were completely useless. 

“Out of my way!” 

She jerked the reins up, Rambo bleating angrily. Logan jostled in the saddle.

A momentary break in the crowd revealed the sheriff sprinting towards them.

Justice pushed his way through the mass of bodies, yelling for people to move. The crowd finally responded, recognizing the blazing orange and yellow of his civil corps uniform. He shoved the last tourist out of the way, shouting, “What the hell happened?”

Mai’s head flicked back and forth. “Where’s Fang?”

Justice looked over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of Unsuur darting through the opening in the crowd. Before he could hand out orders, Mai cried out. Logan slid from the saddle, his descent slowed by Mai’s trembling arm. Justice moved to catch his limp body. Unsuur slipped behind Logan and braced his back. The two officers pulled Logan from the saddle, and tugged his arms across their shoulders. He hung between them, a deadweight.

Justice stared up at Mai, adjusting Logan’s weight against his shoulder. “Fang’s at the clinic. Get the doc, and we’ll meet you at Logan’s place.”

Mai didn’t answer. She grabbed the reins. Rambo reluctantly obeyed, and they took off down Main Street.

When Mai burst through Logan’s bedroom door Fang was following closely behind. As they approached the bed where he lay, X jumped from Fang’s shoulder and landed at the bedside table. Fang unloaded his bag beside the bird. X cocked his head, watching Fang’s deft hands flit across Logan’s bloody shoulder. 

Justice and Unsuur had stripped him of his armor and shirt as soon as they dropped him onto the soft bed. His clothing lay in a crumpled heap in the corner next to the bookshelf. Logan’s chestplate sparkled underneath the few rays of light shining through the curtained window. Sunlight glanced off the small hole in the left shoulder.

Mai hovered beside Fang with her brow drawn tight. She had pulled off one glove, anxiously biting her thumbnail with her eyes glued to Logan’s ghostlike form. The two civil corps officers stood at the end of the bed, relieved to see the almost imperceptible–but present–rise and fall of his chest. 

Justice nudged Unsuur’s arm.

“Go make sure Logan’s goat is tied up, then get back on patrol. I’ll stay back an’ make sure things are settled. We’ll meet at the office later.” Justice spoke in a whisper, not because there was anything to hide but because of the tightness in the room. Death hovered in the doorway, held off by the presence of the doctor.

Unsuur left without a word, and Mai hardly noticed his departure. She was stone, her body tense and unmoving, save for her mindless gnawing of her thumbnail. Her arms were crossed over her chest like a barrier. Gone was her usual confidence. She was unrecognizable–not just because she was coated with sand and some green, foul substance.

Justice dared to speak. “You alright, Mai?” 

“I’m fine.”

He drew in a shaky breath. Nothing about the flat tone in her voice indicated she was fine. “You’re in pretty bad shape,” he said. “You got a cut along your jaw.”

She kept her eyes fixed on Logan.

“I said I’m fine.”

“Mai, why don’t you try–”

“Don’t patronize me!” she snapped, spinning around. She glared at him, her eyes wild as an animal’s. Justice fought the urge to back away.

The tightness in the room gripped them like a python. Mai looked moments away from  throttling Justice–the builder’s chest heaving and the sheriff’s heart shaking. Fang broke the silence mumbling something. Mai pulled her eyes away from Justice and turned back around to face the doctor.

Fang had paused, his fingers hovering over Logan’s shoulder. Both of them were stained with bright red blood. Fang peered at Mai through his dark hair. He repeated himself, louder.

“Water. Boil water for me.” 

Justice noticed the flask glinting in the medical bag next to X, but didn’t say anything. 

Mai stood there, silent, and Justice wondered if she knew about the flask. 

Finally, she moved towards the door, the air in the room depressurizing as the heavy thudding of her footsteps grew fainter down the hall. 

Mai threw open the kitchen door and let it slam against the wall. The hinges threatened to shatter at the force. Mai yanked open cabinet after cabinet, searching for a pot. She pulled too hard and rammed a cabinet door into her forehead. A string of curses poured out as she slammed it back shut. 

When she found the pots, she tossed one into the sink and filled it with water, turning the tap to full blast. Water sloshed out from the rim and onto her hands as she set it on the stove. She spun the temperature dial almost in a full rotation. Mai pulled off her other glove, now soaked through, and rubbed her tender forehead.

The water settled in the copper pot. Mai urged the water to boil faster.

A few tiny bubbles formed at the bottom. They taunted her. 

She dipped her head, thinking of that annoying saying about watched pots never boiling.

Mai splayed her sweaty hands out against the countertops, rocking back and forth. Her slimy sword knocked against her jogging leg, thunk, thunk, thunk . The muscles in her thighs ached. Her shoulders ached. Her heart ached.

Mai frantically undid her belt and tossed the sword onto the floor behind her. It clattered and slid against the tile, staining the floor with monster blood. It banged into the leg of the dining table and rattled the empty glass sitting on the tabletop. 

Remembering she was wearing Logan’s hat, she pulled it off and carefully laid it on the counter. She swiped the sand off its brim and touched the broken yakmel horns decorating the sides. Mai had mindlessly thrown it on in her race to get Logan back to town. Even in her panic she managed to save it for him.

Mai let out a shaky breath, and balanced herself against the counter once more. She ran a hand along the varnished wood. 

She installed these this past summer, even helped Logan bake Andy a cake for his birthday at this very counter in the autumn. Was it just a few weeks ago she was at the dining table playing poker with Logan and a few other friends? 

To think, she had been moments away from being unable to ever share moments like that with him ever again. To think that Logan almost–

Her lip quivered. Tears pricked at her eyes. Her throat constricted as a sob clawed its way up.

She leaned further against the counter, whispering to herself, “He’s okay, he’s okay.”

But it did little to quash the terrible feeling stabbing her chest. Was this why she had felt anxious all day? Because her gut instinct knew Logan would leave that cave at death’s door?

How close had the arrow come to his heart? Why did he have to jump in front of her like that? Sacrifice himself for her?

A million questions whirled around her mind as she wept. But one truth stood as the axis to which they all revolved.

Mai sank to her knees, the tears streaming down her grimy cheeks in torrents. Her hands crashed to the floor. She sank lower until her head pressed against the cool tile.

“I’m useless.”

Chapter Text

This was the hardest part about the job. Not the sleepless nights patrolling the outskirts of town. Not the heaping stacks of paperwork that only seemed to multiply. Not the near-death experiences every other week. No, all those things he was used to. 

The hardest part was the crying. The endless, continuous, unstoppable crying.

How many people had he seen carried into the clinic after a run-in with a rogue mutant? How many more were carried off by a sandstorm, their loved ones never knowing whether they’d come home? 

And now, his two closest friends had become the desert's next victims. 

Justice squeezed his eyes shut, willed his ears to go deaf. But they wouldn’t stop, the gut-wrenching sobs continued on, the kitchen door doing little to muffle each sorrowful cry. 

It already scared him shitless seeing Logan half-dead sliding out of the saddle, but then  seeing Mai’s unbreakable spirit shattered like glass compiled it. What felled these giants? Justice didn’t know. But standing here listening to Mai’s weeping felt inappropriate, invasive.

Justice turned on his heel and crept back down the dim hallway. Mai’s wailing grew fainter. In painful contrast to the heaviness in the house, happy pictures of Logan’s family lined the wall facing the dusty stairwell. Afraid to see the results of Fang’s intervention, Justice stalled  and scanned the wall. 

One photo captured Howlett cradling his son in front of a mutilated monster corpse, beaming like they were posing before a statue of Peach. A more recent photo hung beside the first. Logan stood in front of a beheaded robot with Andy. Andy held up its dismembered arm in triumph, while Logan looked towards the camera with a quiet confidence. 

Despite what Logan believed, he was the spitting image of his old man–had Howlett’s squarish features and set of his jaw. Hell, even the same hearty laugh when he managed to loosen up. Sometimes the resemblance was eerie. Made Justice’s skin crawl. Like how hauling Logan up the stairs to his house felt like hauling Howlett to the Temple all over again.

Thank the Light Logan would not be following his father to an early grave.

Deciding he’d stalled long enough, Justice ducked back into the bedroom. The bitter smell of medicinal herbs hung heavily in the air, overpowering the foul odor coming from whatever had clung to Mai’s clothes. The afternoon sun peeked through the patterned curtains over the one window in the room. Fang didn’t acknowledge Justice’s arrival, even though the creaky floorboards announced it heartily.

The aching in Justice’s chest dulled when he saw Fang had wrought yet another medical miracle. A thick salve covered the gash in Logan’s shoulder. His pallid demeanor had all but disappeared, and the strange sludge-like medicine Fang force fed Logan seemed to be working quickly. Logan was lucky to be unconscious when he ingested it–that stuff looked like it came out of the wrong end of a yakmel.

Fang gestured for Justice to come closer. He cleared his throat before speaking, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Help me…bandage him,” he said. “Keep him…steady.”

Together, they delicately lifted Logan to a sitting position. Logan’s chin dipped sharply, and the limpness of his body felt wrong. Was this really the same man who faced an army?

 Justice grasped him by the shoulders, careful not to touch the injury on Logan’s left shoulder. With Logan secured by Justice, Fang unrolled a length of bandages.

From the nightstand, X watched the pair of men wrap the bandages around Logan’s injury. Dizzy from the rhythmic up-and-down motions, X took to preening his feathers. He hopped to the side in annoyance when Fang nearly grabbed his beak instead of the pair of scissors sticking out from the medical bag. He nipped at Fang’s fingers, but the doctor was unperturbed by his companion’s grievances and focused on cutting the excess bandages. Fang slid the scissors back into their pouch after tucking the tail of the bandage into place. 

As Justice and Fang finished settling Logan back into his bed, Mai shuffled through the doorway. Having removed her leather braces, wool vest, and thermal shirt, she hugged her arms left exposed by her cotton undershirt. It was the only article of clothing not stained in that awful green substance. It marred a good portion of her left pant leg, but at least she’d removed the dirtiest pieces. Mai had also washed her face and combed out the twigs tangled in her shaggy brown hair. Fresh bruises blossoming across her body were visible with the layers of grime and armor gone. 

 The dark circles under her red-rimmed eyes made them appear lackluster. She dragged herself over to the bed. Fang and Justice moved to give her space to look at Logan. The tightness in her face softened, melting at the sight of his chest rising and falling in the slow, steady pattern of sleep.

Justice hesitated to ask her how she was. It was obvious she was barely holding it together, and he feared she would lash out again. Did she figure out Fang had asked her to boil water just to get her out of the room?

He held his breath as Mai turned to Fang, who was busy wiping off his hands with a damp cloth. “How deep was the wound?”

Fang swiped the cloth under his nails, a streak of blood staining the white cloth. “Not deep…will heal…without issue.”

“Then why did he collapse?”

Mai’s tone was flat, but the slight quiver on the last syllable betrayed the real question she was asking. 

Why did Logan almost die?

“Poison,” Fang answered, folding the cloth. Normally, he looked small next to Mai because of his disposition. Not today, though. Today he looked serene next to Mai’s weak facade. “Almost fatal but...I had the..antidote. He will be–” Fang briefly met Mai’s eyes, “--he is fine.”

Justice held up a hand. “Uh, how did Logan end up poisoned in the first place? It looked like he’d been shot with an arrow or somethin’.”

“He was.” Mai leaned over and gingerly brushed a piece of hair from Logan’s forehead. “I triggered a trap. He saved my life.”

Justice held his tongue, moments from betraying a secret Logan had told him and Owen in confidence. He cursed the fact Logan was unconscious. He was blind to this woman’s feelings.

“Dragon Killer. He was poisoned…with the Dragon Killer.”

Justice’s ears perked hearing that name. He flicked his head back towards the doctor.  “Hang on, doc, you mean that nasty stuff poachers use?”

Fang nodded. “Mm. Weaker but…yes. Dragon Killer.”

“Shit,” Justice muttered, shaking his head. “Things jus’ got a whole lot more complicated.”

Mai looked between Fang and Justice in confusion. “What’s going on? What’s ‘Dragon Killer?’”

“Dragon Killer is a poison a lotta folks used to make quick work of any monsters they couldn’t handle by themselves. It was pretty big durin’ the relic rush but it’s banned now.”

He was what, maybe fourteen or fifteen? when they announced the ban during a fireside meeting. That week, half a dozen men died mishandling the poison known as the ‘Dragon Killer’ in their attempt to sell it to aspiring monster-hunters. It was hard to forget the heavy atmosphere in the town and the hushed gossip about the horrible accident. Justice’s ma and pa knew some of the men from salvaging with them in the ruins. Some had even come over for dinner before.

The day after the men died, Justice cut school to follow B3 around. He even had an excuse prepared in case B3 tried to send him back. But before he got the chance to use it, he overheard a tense conversation between his mentor and Howlett. The monster hunter said something about the poison being “inhumane,” and “harmful to the desert’s balance.” That weekend, Mayor Lou announced the desert-wide ban, that anyone caught manufacturing, selling or using the Dragon Killer would pay a hefty fine and face jail time. Within a season, the Dragon Killer had all but disappeared, fading into a distant, unpleasant memory.

“Crazy part is,” Justice continued, “you can’t make the authentic thing anymore. Between killing off so many monsters and the relic rush destroying the environment, most of the ingredients are hard to come by nowadays.” He scratched his beard. “Guess that’s what you meant by ‘weaker variant,’ eh, doc?’”

Fang nodded.

“Anyways, the real thing or not, we got a problem on our hands. We can’t have folks gettin’ hurt by poisoned traps or allow the past to repeat itself.” Justice looked at Mai, his tone serious. “Any info you got, I need it. ASAP.”

Mai readily retold the events of the day. Where Logan discovered Donkey and Mule, why he wanted to go there, and the stolen items he and Mai found abandoned in the cave.

Justice pulled out a pocket-sized notepad bound in leather, scribbling notes as Mai talked. Fang listened while he packed his bag. X supplied rather dramatic reactions to Mai’s account from his perch on Fang’s shoulder, like crowing “Bad! Bad birdies!” at the perpetrators’ descriptions, and “She’s a hero!” upon hearing how Mai slayed the tunnel worm. Everyone ignored him, much to the bird’s annoyance.

Justice would catch momentary glimpses of the cracks in Mai’s calm demeanor. She rushed through the parts about the accident, near refusing to provide any detail beyond what was necessary. Logan’s name would get stuck in her throat and a brief but panicked look would flash across her face, like someone choking on a fish bone.

She tugged on the stray piece of hair at her neck as she spoke, pulling harder every time Justice probed further about certain details. Where was the trap? Did you see any others? Can you describe the direction where the arrow came? All these questions she answered to the best of her ability, but a weighty sense of guilt pulled on Justice’s heart having to force her to relive the accident that nearly stole Logan’s life.

This was the other hard part about the job. Having to remain pragmatic in this awful situation. Having to put people’s safety first when his friend was lying in bed recovering from some bastard’s get-rich-quick scheme. Having to chase after lawbreakers when he wanted nothing more than to pour himself a glass of brandy. 

Justice capped his pen and slid it into his pocket with the notepad. 

“Thanks, Mai. Me an’ Unsuur’ll handle this from here on out, so rest easy now.”

Mai dipped her head in acknowledgement, relieved to have finished being questioned. Fang stepped towards them, one hand gesturing towards the nightstand where a second dose of medicine lay. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, a crash came from downstairs.

Everyone flew out the door in an instant. Mai made it out first, her petite form darting past the pictures and towards the stairwell. Footsteps pounded against the stairs towards the group. Justice slammed into Mai as she froze at the top of the stairs.

Catching himself on the railing, he saw the splash of red fabric from the corner of his eye, a mop of blonde hair. His heart stopped.

“W-Where is he?! Where’s Logan?!”

Halfway up the stairs, winded and drenched in sweat, with teary eyes and trembling knees was possibly the worst person to show up at that moment.

Andy grit his teeth. “Move!”

Chapter Text

Mai stopped just shy of the weapons room, right where the doorway sloped wrong, and turned on her heel towards the other end of the room. With each circuit her steps grew quicker and her head dizzier. She’d wear through the soles of her boots at this rate. 

She pulled her thumbnail from between her teeth and tossed at glance at Logan’s bedroom door upstairs. It was cracked, just as she’d left it. The crying stopped a few minutes ago, replaced by indistinct voices and a bird’s periodic crowing. While Justice and Fang took it upon themselves to calm Andy, she was downstairs sulking like the coward she was.

She buried her hands in her hair and grit her teeth. She’d narrowly seized control of her emotions after her outburst in the kitchen, and she’d fought to keep that fragile hold as Justice questioned her, but coming face to face with Andy jeopardized it all. Guilt sapped her waning strength and wrung her lungs like a wet towel, leaving Mai paralyzed when Andy pushed past her and into Logan’s room. 

Somehow, her feet had carried her to the doorway, where she hovered, a voyeur into Andy’s despair. Justice pulled Andy away after he’d tried to shake his poor pa awake, and all Mai could fixate on were Andy’s repeated pleas of wake up, wake up, wake up, and when she blinked…that’s when she found herself downstairs pacing. 

 She couldn’t face that little boy. She couldn’t. Not yet.

This was all her fault, with no way to fix her mistake. No matter how many times she replayed that moment the trap went off, Mai couldn’t figure out what went wrong. Was she not conscious enough of her surroundings? Too slow? Too stupid? Where was the crossed wire, the misplaced part? There had to be something she could identify as the damning error.

The details blurred together like water and ink until it was such a murky mess Mai had to brace herself against the wall, gasping for the breath that evaded her. She filled her lungs until they could expand no further, held the air for four heartbeats, and slowly exhaled. She inhaled again, held her breath, then exhaled slowly once more. Again. Again. Again until she didn’t feel lightheaded and her thoughts became coherent.

Mai stepped back from the wall and carefully straightened the picture she’d nearly knocked off its nail. She focused on the weight of the frame against her fingertips, finding comfort in putting something in its proper, ordered place. Picture frames were easy to think about. Terrible accidents were not.

She trembled at that realization. This was all an accident. No one, including her, could have foreseen this. All of this was beyond her control. And that meant that no matter what she did to prepare, this could happen again. And if it did…would things turn out alright? 

“I thought you left.”

Mai spun around. Justice stood on the last step, one hand on the banister, and for the first time that day, Mai finally saw how disheveled he’d become. His sleeves were rolled up but uneven, and his faded Civil Corps jacket was unzipped, revealing a bloodstain on his undershirt that could have only been Logan’s. 

“I almost did,” she answered, looking away.

Justice stepped down into the living room. “Andy’s okay now. Fang and I managed to calm him down.” He rubbed the back of his neck and let out a small but incredulous laugh. “Never thought I’d see the day when Fang would say more than five words. You shoulda heard him—got Andy to stop crying by distracting him with that bird of his. And then showed the kid how to take Logan’s pulse just to prove to him Logan’s gonna be alright.”

Mai forced a smile. “Yeah. I imagine he understood.”

Misfortune was an old friend of the doctor’s. If anyone could understand what it was like to watch a parent suffer, it was him. Fang’s efforts to connect with the townsfolk must’ve allowed him to step in for Andy.

Though as grateful as she felt to him, Mai cursed herself for not being able to offer Andy even the slightest comfort. She owed him that much.

“...you okay?”

Mai blinked. “No. But I’m trying to be.”

Justice nodded and fixed his eyes on the fireplace, no doubt aware of the chill that had settled upon the house. Whether it was the winter air creeping in through unknown cracks or simply residual fear, it was hard to say. Besides, could a hearth’s fire take away the cold only Logan’s presence could? 

Justice watched Mai fidget anxiously. He cleared his throat and asked, tentatively, “…can we talk?”

She forced another smile. “I’m not the best conversation partner at the moment. You’d have a better time with Fang.”

“Then how about I do the talking, and you listen? Can you manage that?”

Mai glanced at him then at the pair of armchairs around the coffee table. “Yeah. Sure.”

They each took a seat. Though the plush armchairs were recently reupholstered, their cushions soft enough to sink into, neither Mai nor Justice could get comfortable. Back rigid, Mai sat right at the edge of the seat, and stared at the curving grain of the wooden floorboards. Justice measured his next words with a grim expression.

“We…we’ve been through a lot together–Gecko Station, various ruins, Duvos. Don’t even get me started on the power struggles within the mutant rodent monarchy–and hey, I taught you to shoot, didn’t I?” Justice glanced at her. She didn’t move. His faint smile fell. “We’re friends, is what I’m sayin’. So I’ma be honest with you, Mai.” He crossed his arms, hands tucked into his pits and hunched forward in his seat, looking serious and seasoned like the sheriff he was. He said with a tightly drawn brow, “I ain’t gonna try to speak for Logan, but as someone who experiences similar dangers on the job, it ain’t easy gettin’ close to folks. We worry ‘em. You’re no stranger to what I’m talkin’ about–I’m sure you’ve written to your family more than a few times ‘bout your escapades out here.” Justice hesitated. “I don’t mean to overstep—I respect you too much—but as a friend, I’m warning you that Logan’s not gonna stay bundled up at home where it’s safe. He’s already made up his mind to put his life on the line. Whether it be protecting you or someone else. You can’t change that. Jus’ sayin’, is all,” Justice finished hurriedly, putting his hands up.

A bitter smile slowly pulled at Mai’s lips. She lay her face in her hands, as if hiding it now could undo what Justice had accurately deduced. Then again, it’s not as though she had had a very good grasp of her emotions. But she felt ashamed in realizing that he had seen through her, that he managed to speak to her own addled thoughts better than she could.

What he said was the truth. The events of today could, and likely would , repeat because of Logan’s very livelihood. It would be naive to expect otherwise.

If anything more came of their friendship, Mai would have no choice but to accept this possibility. If she couldn’t bring herself to give up building because of its dangers, how could she even dare ask Logan to quit monster hunting? Who was she to anyways? Certainly not anyone who had that right.

And occupational hazards aside, both of them craved adventure, demanded it even, because they were simply those kinds of people. Neither had resigned themselves to an easy life. So avoiding danger entirely was nigh impossible.

Her only comfort was that Logan knew his limits. As reckless as he’d been during the Duvos invasion, even he knew where to draw the line.

He could toe the line or stay miles away from it, whatever he wanted. But just as he had that mobility, so did death, and it is hardly as deferential. It could step right over any line Logan drew and snatch him away.

It is only by the Light’s intervention that death can not only be confronted and wrestled with, but overcome . While Logan had escaped numerous brushes with death, who’s to say how many more?

If we were to remain as friends, Mai thought, that distance would keep us safe. I’d get hurt but not as badly.

But...am I satisfied with “safe”?

Mai lifted her head from her hands just enough to meet Justice’s gaze. He patiently waited for her response, hands clasped across his knees, a kind but sober look in his eyes. No doubt he, too, had grappled with the same questions she was grappling with now. Though Ged, the one who’d convinced Mai to profess her affections to Logan, believed in the sanguinness of love, across from her sat a man who reminded her of the inevitable responsibilities of love. 

Could Logan ever bring himself to return her feelings, knowing the risks of his job? As confident as he appeared in the face of danger, how confident was he that he could come home safely? 

Was he as strong as he let himself be perceived? 

“I…I think I thought he was invincible,” Mai finally admitted. She straightened and let out an awkward laugh. “I mean…who wouldn’t after seeing him pull some of the stunts he does? He carries around a grappling hook. A grappling hook , and then he cuts down giant monsters like they’re grass and he’s literally a perfect shot with that pistol of his–”

“I get it, Mai,” Justice interrupted. “You overestimated him. It’s easy to do.”

“Yeah, but I shouldn’t have. Yet I did. And I didn’t even know it ‘til it was too late.” She clenched her fists, recalling the moment she saw the shaft of the arrow jutting out of his chest, and the weight of him in her arms as she dragged him out of the cave. “What kind of a partner am I? To forget he’s only human?”

Justice sucked in a long, slow breath. He leaned back in his seat, hands on his knees, deep in thought. His brow lowered just slightly, barely drawn, in that way it always did when he was remembering something, about to tell one of his colorful stories. She expected him to launch into one, but it never came. Instead, he just looked at her and said, “Me, too.”

“What?”

“I think I also thought he was invincible. Seein’ y’all in town square, Logan bleeding and unconscious, you looking like you’d just dropped out of a sandstorm, it was like we were back in those starship ruins all over again, wonderin’ whether we’d walk out alive. I doubted for a moment he’d pull through.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah. Really.” Justice shot her a pointed look. “But you need to quit blamin’ yourself. You did everything you could.”

Mai fixed her gaze back on the floor. “I know. But it doesn’t feel like it was enough.”

“I get that. I’ve been there. But holdin’ on to guilt ain’t gonna undo the past. It ain’t gonna help Logan. It ain’t gonna help you. I’m tellin’ you to let it go.”

She gave a weak laugh. “You make it sound so easy.”

“I never said it was.” And she knew he meant it. She could only imagine what tragedies lay behind his words, the experience he spoke from as Sandrock’s sheriff. 

“Fine,” Mai said after a brief pause. She took a deep breath and clapped her hands over her knees. “I will take your advice, sheriff.” She looked at Justice. “Logan’s alive, and that’s all that matters.”

Justice nodded. “Exactly. He’s alive, and that’s all that matters.” 

Justice stood and offered her a hand. Mai took it and rose from her seat. He patted her arm, minding the bruises. “I’ll give you one last piece of advice–remember what I taught you on all those missions?”

“‘The safety of the team comes first–’” she immediately replied, the phrase so often uttered by Justice she could mimic his exact cadence. 

“Yup. An’ if you just keep having Logan’s back like you did today, you won’t have anything to worry about. After all, you’re standing here ‘cos he has yours.” 

Mai nodded. 

“I hope I did my duty as sheriff and cheered you up, but I know the doc is more suited to treatin’ those external injuries of yours. You oughta let him look you over.”

Mai touched the fresh bruises along her arm, the skin swollen and hot under her fingertips. Talking to Justice cleared away most of her hazy thoughts, but now she was painfully aware of the aching in her hips and thighs where the monster’s spikes had hit her. In fact, she was more aware of all the aches and pains in her body. She’d slayed a monster bigger than a house, hadn’t she?

Justice frowned in concern. “Maybe you should go home an’ rest. I can stay here and keep watch.”

“No. I’m staying. I need to stay.”

Justice lowered his voice. “You sure you’ll be okay with Andy? I saw you earlier–”

“ Especially for him.”

Mai had stayed away long enough. He might blame her, might be angry that she left him to face Logan alone, but she couldn’t walk away. 

Justice looked at her for a long while, the creases in his forehead deepening and the lines around his eyes more prominent as he deliberated leaving. Mai maintained her earnestness, waiting for him to concede. At last, with a swipe over the top of his graying locs, he did.

“Alright. Then I’ll be off. I’ll look into Donkey and Mule when I get back to the office.”

Mai smiled–a genuine one. “Thanks. For everything.” 

He smiled back. “Anytime, jus’ doin’ my job. You know I’m here for y’all no matter what.” He glanced up at the second floor and saluted. “That means you, too, kid.”

Mai turned and saw Andy’s face peeking through the wooden balusters of the staircase railing, maroon eyes wide, mouth agape at the fact he’d been caught eavesdropping.

Mai’s heart clenched–how much had he heard? And what did he think?

Fang appeared behind him, medical bag and bird in tow. He gave Andy a brief nod of acknowledgement and he came down the steps, his greenish coat billowing around him. Andy remained crouched at the rails, watching the adults below.

Fang motioned for Mai to hold out her hands, and when she did, he pressed a small, fragrant sachet into them, an earthy, musky scent filling the air. X, from his perch on Fang’s shoulder, gave a quick flutter of his wings.

“For you, for you,” he squawked.

“Tea. Calms nerves,” Fang explained.

Mai dipped her head in thanks, murmuring to herself, “I’ll have to boil that water again…”

As Justice zipped up his jacket and pulled the sleeves down to his wrists, he asked Fang, “How’s Logan holdin’ up, doc? Anythin’ we should be worried about?” 

Fang shook his head. X mirrored him. “He will be fine. Needs rest.” He turned back to Mai and added, “When he wakes…give him the second dose of medicine. It is on the nightstand.”

“And tomorrow? Will he need more medicine tomorrow?”

“I will…prepare more painkillers…and more salve. Wait to change…his bandages until then.”

“Then I’ll stop by in the morning,” she said.

When X began to nuzzle the doctor’s cheek, Fang stroked the bird’s sable feathers. X softly croaked in contentment at the doctor’s faithful attention, but it was short-lived. As X turned to nipping at Fang’s fingers, Mai suspected the bird was hungry, and eager to return home. She guessed it must’ve been several hours that they’d been here.

With the doctor and sheriff preparing to leave, Mai cast another wary glance up towards the landing. She saw Andy’s face still peeking through the balusters, his small hands now wrapped around them as he stared back at her, silent. Unnervingly silent. 

Mai escorted the others to the door, and they left with little fanfare.

The door shut with a click, and she pressed her forehead to the chilled, frosted glass. She took a steadying breath, filling her lungs until she no longer could and slowly released. One, two, three…

Justice’s words repeated themselves in her mind, offering a sense of peace, of acceptance, to the worries plaguing her all day. She had done all that she could, and Logan was alright. He was alive. He would wake up. Mai need not blame herself any longer, and she would not worry over a future she had no control over. As for her feelings for him, they could wait. Logan’s health came first. 

Gradually, she relinquished those uncertainties, assuring herself that she could simply face things as they came. And with the unknowable future surrendered, she took a hold of the one thing she could take responsibility for in this moment.

Andy.

I can face him now , she told herself. And so she did.

Mai offered a kind smile and stepped towards him.

“How are you feeling, kiddo?”

Andy leaned into the balusters and peered at her. “I’m okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm.”

Mai held up the sachet Fang had given her, dangling it as though it were more exciting than it actually was. “Want a cup of tea?”

Andy scrunched up his nose. “It ain’t gonna be gross?”

Mai smirked. “Probably. But I’ll add lots of honey.”

“Can you make somethin’ to eat, too? I skipped lunch.”

“Anything you want,” Mai said, already moving to the stairs.

Chapter Text

One would think making tea would be a relatively straightforward task. Get the kettle, boil the water, steep the tea. Three basic steps and yet Mai could hardly put a finger to the kettle before another nosy but well-meaning neighbor knocked on the front door. 

Living in Sandrock trained this builder to dodge their probing with the same dexterity she wielded a pickhammer. However, their nosiness was more than simply latching onto gossip the way sandcarp do to bait. They strained their necks to peek behind the door she guarded, and anxiously asked after Logan’s condition with a flurry of questions. After making it clear he was sleeping and wouldn’t be in any condition to have visitors, they each plodded off with resigned expressions. 

Part of Mai felt guilty for turning them away, but Andy’s eerie passivity to whomever appeared convinced her that it was better to. The first time was when he brushed Burgess off. Mai didn’t bat an eye then because, well, it was Burgess. The young minister was a tad overbearing, and he himself would readily admit to that (his only virtue was that he was somewhat self-aware). But after seeing the boy ignore Mabel, Hugo, and now Owen, Andy’s coldness was obviously a deeper issue, and Mai began to worry.

While getting a decent hold on the hefty soup pot, Mai listened to Owen’s good-natured offer fall on deaf ears.

“Tell Logan to come by the Blue Moon for any meals you guys may want over the next few days. If there’s anything I can do to make things easier, I’d be happy to lend a hand.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Andy’s sneakers shift back and forth, and then scuttle behind her. When she lifted her head, Owen’s expression was tight, if not a bit defeated. 

“Thank you,” Mai answered on Andy’s behalf. “I’ll make sure to pass that along. This soup is such a big help already. Logan’ll probably be starving when he wakes up.”

“Let’s hope he likes it. It’s just something I threw together, so I’m not sure how it tastes.”

“If it’s your cooking, then I’m sure it’s fine. Take care.” Holding the ceramic pot in both hands, Mai used her elbow to close the door. Owen stopped her. 

“Don’t forget to take care of yourself. You’re looking a bit tired.”

Mai forced a smile. “I’m okay. Really.”

Owen’s face fell a little, and he hesitantly removed his gloved hand from the doorway. “Alright. My offer stands for you, too.”

The door shut harder than she’d intended. The muscles in her shoulders burned from the weight of this gigantic pot and she didn't have much strength to bear it any longer. Mai moved for the steps, nearly colliding with Andy. Stumbling and holding back her surprise, Mai righted herself before she could dump soup everywhere. She’d already stained half the house in monster blood, she didn’t need to stain it with anything more.

They climbed the steps back towards the kitchen, and during the brief trip Mai’s thoughts wandered towards the weight of this bottomless pot of soup and the fact Andy had not reacted at all to her little mishap. Why was he so withdrawn?

She set the soup onto one of the stovetop burners to keep warm. Anticipating another visitor, Mai waited to add the copper kettle until she was certain no one else was coming.

“Logan’s going to be quite popular in the coming days,” she said, adjusting the knobs. “At least you won’t have to worry about any burnt dinners or dubious-looking meals while the neighbors are around.”

She paused, waiting for a response of any kind.

“And because of Owen’s generosity–” emphasis on generous , she thought to herself, “–we now have lunch. I’m keeping it on the stove so it’ll be ready whenever Logan wakes up. He’ll need to eat something when he takes his meds, and he probably hasn’t eaten anything since yesterday. I wonder if he even ate dinner after coming back from the settlement. I doubt he did considering how frazzled he was.” She gasped. “Light! Tell me he fed you, kid–”

Mai’s rambling stopped the moment she turned towards Andy.

He stood at the other end of the kitchen, where the mugs hung above the countertops, his shoulders hunched and face hidden by his mop of blond hair. He held the tattered hat so delicately, handling it with a care few others would think Andy was capable. He traced the silver insignia.

“I’d forgotten I’d left that here…” Mai said, trying to hide the guilt in her voice. She cleared her throat and stepped closer. “I-I haven’t had a chance to put it up. I tried to keep it safe for him after…what happened. Anyways, you said you were hungry, right? There’s soup!” Mai gestured behind her awkwardly, expecting an answer she knew by now wouldn’t come.

Kitchens were usually one of the places Mai felt most at ease in. Like a builder’s workshop, kitchens offered order and stability, and guaranteed everything to have a designated end. Like diagrams, recipes provided guidance in the areas experience couldn’t. Something useful could be made from a heap of unrelated parts. The things her hands touched could bring people together.

However, this tiny kitchen with no windows and peeling wallpaper was a far cry from the open expanse of her yard. A half-empty coffee mug sat isolated on the table. Large boot prints marred the chipped tiles. A scribbled note hung haphazardly on the fridge.

Remember to wear your coat today. See you at dinner.

- Logan

She jumped at the screech of the kettle.

Shaken from her thoughts, Mai’s movements were frantic as she turned the burner off and slipped in the tea Fang had given her. The earthy, bitter scent intensified as the sachet hit the water. She grabbed a ladle from one of the drawers, catching a glimpse of her distorted reflection in its silvery handle. 

The overpowering scent of meat erupted from beneath the pot lid. It smelled flavorful and looked nourishing. A thick ring of broth encircled the pot just below its rim. It was perfect, exactly what anyone would want to enjoy on a bone-chilling afternoon like today. 

But as the ladle hit the broth and cut through it like a desert mudfish in sand, what Mai longed for was something much simpler. 

She sighed. “Fried rice would’ve been so much better…”

“Fried rice?”

Andy’s voice caused her to jump again. Mai cast a quick glance behind her and resumed stirring the soup, saying, “Don’t mind me, I’m just thinking of home.”

Placing Logan’s hat back onto the counter, Andy crossed the room and planted himself at the stove beside Mai. 

He peeked up at her through his overgrown bangs, and asked, “Why’re you thinkin’ of home? An’ what’s fried rice got to do with it?”

His sudden inclination to speak left her fumbling for a response. Not wanting to waste this opportunity, she replied honestly with, “Today’s…today’s been hard. Fried rice reminds me of home and home’s a safe place. Guess I’m just looking for a bit of comfort.”

“...could you make fried rice?” he asked a moment later.

“You…don’t want soup…?” she trailed off when Andy scrunched up his nose at the pot. A small, almost incredulous laugh escaped her. “You really want my cooking? When you could have Owen’s?”

Stare unwavering, Andy gave a firm nod. 

“Alright, then, let’s see what I can throw together.” 

With renewed enthusiasm, Mai tossed the lid back on and hurried towards the pantry. She rummaged through the shelves, pushing back forgotten jars of preserves and old canned goods. Two potatoes, though boasting tiny shoots, still looked good enough to use. 

But her enthusiasm soon waned as she spent the next ten minutes scouring for the most important ingredient. Highwind fried rice was known across the Free Cities for being a flexible dish, its ingredients often being substituted for what suited the person’s tastes, but even Mai couldn’t make fried rice without the rice.

For once, she cursed Logan for being a better shot than chef because if he had the sense to keep his kitchen just half as well-stocked as his weapons storage, she could’ve made Andy a meal he actually wanted.

The vivid image of those soft white grains coated in soy sauce, decorated with sweet carrots and tender greens vanished, along with the familiar taste of home.

Light, she missed that. Familiarity. A certainty about who she was and what she wanted. Today had thrown so much of that into question.

“I-I can run to Arvio’s and pick up the ingredients,” Mai insisted, already moving towards the door. She couldn’t bear to look at the disappointment on Andy’s face any longer. If he wanted fried rice he would get fried rice, dammit.

Mai froze and looked down to find a small finger hooked around her belt loop. 

“Andy?”

All she could see was the top of his head, the snags in the sleeve of his red sweater as he tightened his hold on her belt loop. He drew his shoulders up, and pleaded, “Don’t go.”

Mai gingerly removed his hand and knelt before him. 

“Can you look at me, kiddo?” She brushed his hair back as he lifted his face. His brow was drawn in desperation. “What’s wrong? I thought you wanted me to make you fried rice.”

“Don’t go.”

“Why not?” When Andy didn’t answer right away, she asked again. “You know you can come with me, right?”

“But then Logan’s gonna be alone.”

She leaned into her back leg, taking a deep breath and trying to grasp the situation.

In the year since they met, Mai knew Andy to be a vocal child. When he was frustrated, he yelled. Sad, he cried. Happy, he celebrated. Very rarely did she have to guess what he was thinking. In many ways, one could say he was better at communicating than most adults. He was mischievous and rebellious, but deeply loyal and read people well. Andy was–contrary to some townsfolk’ belief–quite mature for his age.

But that maturity had always left Mai unsettled. 

His ability to thrive independently was simultaneously amazing yet terrifying, as most of this child’s past was shrouded in mystery. Mai had spoken to Logan about it from time to time–that Andy’s parents were likely dead, possibly mauled in one of the many monster attacks that threatened caravans like the one Andy had once traveled with. Not even Logan knew exactly how long Andy had been out in the desert on his own.

When Logan had “thrown Andy out of the gang” last year, long before the truth of Logan’s misdeeds were made clear, Mai witnessed a side of him that made this moment make sense.

I’m all alone…again…

Mai hesitated. 

“Do…do you not want me to leave because you don’t want to be by yourself?”

Andy nodded once.

“We’ll save the fried rice for another day,” she said, rising to her feet. “Do you want a bowl of soup then?”

“No.”

“You need to eat, kiddo.”

“I eat when Logan eats.”

“But you said earlier…” Pulling at a piece of hair, she decided to concede. She didn’t understand his contrarian behavior, but then again…it had been a rough day for him, too.

Mai felt a little helpless not having anything to do with her hands. She could only stir the soup so much before it was kind of pointless, and even if Andy decided he wanted something else to eat it’s not as though there were any ingredients to cook with. 

Standing here idly would give her thoughts the little foothold they needed to go spiraling, and repeating to the words He’s fine, and that’s all that matters, would lose all meaning if she wasn't careful.

So, turning her attention to something else she could control, Mai turned the tap on to wash the dishes. 

Just as she went to pick up a plate, Andy grabbed her wrist. 

Mai yelped and dropped the plate. It crashed into the sink and shattered. 

“Peach! What are you doing?!” she snapped. Andy flinched when at her tone and immediately Mai launched into an apology. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled, but why did you grab me like–don’t touch that!” Mai stopped him from picking up one of the broken shards.

Andy dropped his hand defeatedly. “It’s my fault…”

“It’s just a plate. It happens. You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?” She nudged his arm with hers. “…Andy?”

“I was s’pposed to do ‘em last night…”

“What?”

“But I got mad at Logan…so I didn’t do my chores. An’ then this mornin’...I ignored him when he came into my room. I pretended I was asleep but he still said goodbye…”

One tear slid down his cheek. Then another, and another until his face was red and he was rubbing his eyes, sniffling, saying, “An’ when I heard he got hurt I ran an’ ran ‘til I got ‘ere but he wasn’t wakin’ up an’ then the doc told m-me he was jus’ asleep but it’s already been hours an’ what if Logan ain’t gonna wake up an’ I can’t s-say I’m sorry–!”

“Hey, hey, listen to me,” Mai said, wiping his tears. “Logan’s fine, he is fine. ”

“But what if he ain’t? He ain’t invincible, Mai!”

Mai stopped.

All this time she’d wondered what Andy had heard her say to Justice, and it had to be that.

“An’ if he ain’t invincible, he’s gonna die. An’ that means I’m gonna be alone again!” Andy was unconsolable. He swatted away her hands when she tried to wipe away any more of his tears, and she could do nothing but watch the little boy sob. “I can’t live in a big house like this by m-myself ‘cos Haru’s left me to go to the big city, an’ Grace is gone, an’ Grandma Vivi ain’t got room in her house, an’ no one else’ll take me in. I dunno how to cook an’ I won’t do my homework if I ain’t got Logan bossin’ me ‘round. If Logan’s not ‘ere then what ‘bout the gang? Where am I s’pposed to go? I’m alone!”

“You’re not alone, Andy.”

“I am!”

“No, you are not alone,” Mai avowed. “I may not be Logan, but I’m here for you. Always will be.”

Andy looked at her from behind his hand, his eyes puffy. “You’re gonna die one day an’ leave me, too. Jus’ like my folks. Everyone leaves.”

Mai ran a hand through her hair, trying desperately to think of the right thing to say. How are you supposed to talk to a child about death? Had she given her parents trouble about it before? What did they say?

Andy frowned at her sudden silence. “...why ain’t you sayin’ anythin’?”

“I’m…I’m thinking. Gimme a sec.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “Ain’t adults s’pposed to know everythin’? They’re always tellin’ me what to do.”

“...I wish.” Mai sighed and, clenching the fabric of her pants in her fists, gave him an earnest look. “Look, I’m scared, too.”

“I ain’t scared!”

Mai took another deep breath. “Then I’m scared of being left alone, just me,” she corrected, and while Andy didn’t protest again, Mai didn’t trust the brave act he was trying to put on with snot around his nostrils. “And even if you aren’t scared of death, I am. Because it’s a goodbye I can’t take back, and one I can't control. I hate imagining a future without Logan in it. He’s…”

He’s everything to me.

“...he’s important to me,” she said after a moment. “And while I know that one day, long from now, he will…die…” Mai swallowed. “I know it’s not today. Or tomorrow. Or next week. What happened today was a one-in-a-million accident. Logan’s work is dangerous, but I trust him to come home safe. Not only because he’s the strongest man I know but because he’s not alone. He’s got me–and you, Andy. He’s got Haru, even Grace, wherever she is. He’s got a gang the size of Sandrock now. It’s a gang you’re a part of.”

Mai’s words hung in the air, echoing in her ears the way voices did across Shonash canyon. 

She didn’t know who she was saying this for anymore, whether for Andy or for herself. But if it was one or both of them, Mai knew that in saying these things she was declaring trust in Logan and the community he’d built for himself.

Just that morning, as they were inching closer towards that damn trap, Logan had confessed it was because of Mai he believed his life could be rebuilt. Regardless of her supposed influence, he was the one who spent weeks rebuilding trust with his community doing all those odd jobs and making amends. He was the one who stayed awake during the wee hours of the night patrolling the town’s borders. Long before Mai ever arrived, Logan was the one who was willing to throw away his reputation and, hell, his future, if it meant protecting Sandrock from Duvos’ clutches.

And it was simply because he was a good man, truly, a good man, that this little boy had a home at all. The future Logan built for himself was, by extension, one he’d built for Andy.

Family was everything to Logan. Everything.

And Logan wasn’t going to leave his son too soon like Howlett did.

“You are his family, Andy. This is your home,” she said, gesturing around them. “And these things will not be taken from you again.”

Mai stared at him, her jaw set hard and determined as it always was when she was adamant. She resolved herself to be the order and stability he needed right now. She was not going to run away like she did before, she was going to stay here until Andy told her to move. 

This, Mai told herself, This is what I’m certain of.

Andy stared back at her, maroon eyes bloodshot and wet. Damp hair clung to his freckled cheeks, snot stained his sleeves. 

“Do…do you mean that?”

“Every word,” Mai answered.

He hugged her.

Andy squeezed the air out of her, gripping the fabric of her shirt in his fists, bawling into her stomach. Mai wrapped her arms around him, patting his head and saying soothing words. 

She was sorry that she couldn’t do this for him sooner, that it had taken her so long to tell him he wasn’t alone in how he felt. Almost losing Logan had nearly destroyed her. It had almost destroyed Andy as well.

Logan was his everything.

The clock above the table chimed, its small-hand carved face showing that it was just before supper time, and Mai lamented that this day had stretched on an eternity. 

Andy finally pulled away, leaving a tear-stained faceprint on the front of Mai’s tank top. There were far worse things she’d been drenched in today, and she counted it an honor to have been able to comfort Andy.

He sniffled. “Y’know…I was real mad at you at first. I thought Logan was gonna…” He avoided saying it, but Mai knew what he meant, “An’ then when I realized you weren’t there with me…I thought you left us an’ I hated you. But then I heard you talkin’ with Justice an’ you said you were gonna stay…for me… ” Andy lifted his face. “I got real happy.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you sooner.”

“It’s okay.” Andy wrung his hands. “An’...I lied. ‘Bout not bein’ afraid.”

Mai’s smile was soft and sympathetic, her dark eyes understanding. “I know.” 

“Dyin’...it’s scary ‘cos it means bein’ left alone forever. I don’t wanna be alone anymore.” He frowned. “What if this happens again?”

She brushed the hair out of his face and squeezed his shoulder. “I’m sorry I can’t promise that we won’t have scares like this again–I wish I could. But I’ll make sure you won’t have to face it alone.” She smiled tenderly. “I promise I’ll be here for you, and I promise I’ll do everything in my power to have Logan’s back in all kinds of danger. ‘Cos we’re a gang, aren’t we, second-in-command?”

The smile that broke out on Andy’s face forced Mai to hold back tears of relief. It was lively and lovely, toothy and a bit lopsided. His spirit was slowly returning. His shoulders no longer drooped, and he crossed his arms with his usual confidence. As his eyes cleared, there was a bit of tiredness in them, but Mai knew it was to be expected after the day he’d had. 

Mai glanced at the stove, remembering the tea and soup. 

The kettle was cold to the touch, and Mai decided to turn the burner back on. She knew the tea was going to be terribly bitter, but she hated the idea of letting Fang’s kindness go to waste. If an unholy amount of honey couldn’t fix it, then Mai would resolve herself to finish just one cup. While a layer of dried broth lined the inner walls of the pot, there was still enough soup to flood a cave.

There was also the matter of the broken plate, but that could wait a little while longer.

Casting a cheeky look at Andy, Mai asked, “How does soup sound now?”

Andy peered into the pot, getting a face-full of steam. He swiped the air in front of his face and, grinning, replied, “I’ll eat if you eat.”